


Slow Motion for Strangers

by GeneralLoki



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: "I love you", Action Sequence, Angst, M/M, Shimada Angst, shimada bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10076051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralLoki/pseuds/GeneralLoki
Summary: Poor luck brings Hanzo, McCree, and Genji together for a mission with little time to plan or work out a way the two brothers are willing to actually team up. This leaves McCree trying to shoulder more of the job while still grappling with the way it feels to see Hanzo at his worst.





	

Shoulders squared, an unusual intensity around him, Genji led the first few steps outside of the check point. McCree couldn't help following slower after him, that aura pushing him a few paces behind the cyborg. The rest of the team fell through, leaving just the three of them to try and route whatever Talon had built up down the road. Stoney old roads, worn warehouses, and narrow streets lined McCree's view as the pair began steadily from the relative warmth and shelter of what was at least four walls, a roof, and a door. 

Big flaky snow scittered through the air, falling at a relatively careless pace. Chunky flakes stuck to Genji's body, only cold enough to remain for so long before melting like they might off anyone else. McCree couldn't find the words to begin with his friend anymore. He seemed so distant, so much more resolute and cold than he was used to. He didn't and couldn't blame him. This was a sour note to begin anything on—especially a mission. 

“Are you okay to be doin' this?” he forced himself to ask finally. Puffs of visible air followed the formation of the first few words from his lips.

Genji didn't turn, but continued walking forward. “I am always prepared. There should be no question,” he answered, tone a touch sharp. Of course he'd still be sore.

“Look, I'm not doubtin' yer abilities, but I can tell you don't like this,” McCree attempted to breach this again more carefully.

“We don't have the time to reconsider the plan. Talon will not stop because we've had a quarrel.”

“It's a lil' bigger than jus' a quarrel, Genj.” 

Genji finally stalled and pivoted McCree's way, one fist balled tightly at his side. “It is. But this rides on my brother, not me. If he won't take responsibility...well...how much worse could he do?” When the stray hint of bitterness in his voice kept McCree from answering quickly enough, Genji turned back toward their target. “If he has gotten this far the rest is up to him...Whatever he does, I suppose it effects you too. I'm sorry.” 

McCree searched himself for a moment. He knew his answer—he knew it immediately and deeply. Squaring off with Genji's really reasonable distaste for way the plan had to be carried out made him uneasy. He didn't get a sense of any hate out of Genji. It was something far more complex. He wasn't sure if even Genji himself could describe it. Whatever it was, this rift ripped between the Shimada brothers to such a depth that he couldn't simply try to be a patient middle man for them. 

A lot of good trying that did for him. 

 

* * * 

 

Escalated frustration marked Morrison's palm slamming into the table. He punctuated with what McCree expected—a loud “enough!” The old man leaned into his hand against the table, the other three variable members of this sort-of-Overwatch-thing left frozen across from him. McCree could hear the age picking up in Morrison's voice as he went on. 

“Stop arguing and just get on with the job. You're all that I have...Hell, I don't even want to be the one planning this.”

“An' here you are somehow,” McCree found himself muttering despite knowing damn well he shouldn't. 

“Can it, kid,” Morrison snapped at him before going on. “I know this gambit's gonna work, but everybody's gotta be on board for it. Are you really going to waste my time nitpicking the details?” 

Together, in unison, the other two members of this group answered. “Yes.” Genji and Hanzo didn't even exchange looks despite the way they synced up. They sat next to each other and still hadn't looked the other's way since sitting down. Genji was tense for sure, but Hanzo was even worse so. He knew the guy was wound up a lot of the time, but never like this. The cold, serious look in his eyes didn't help McCree feel any more welcome to try and break the ice. 

They had arrived together only twenty minutes ago, but upon seeing only Morrison and Genji on base and none of the rest of the crew, Hanzo started acting strange. He was terse, short—an almost business-like air overtaking any of the usual in's McCree knew to worm into to get a conversation out of him—or at least a look. Instead, the group moved right into planning their movement. Everything was time sensitive, so it wasn't like they could afford to waste much anyway. 

And yet they'd barely budged on actually agreeing to leave the safe point. This briefing with Morrison went to hell so fast McCree barely had a second to blink before either Genji or Hanzo started to tear apart the plan. He was quickly working out why.

“It isn't a waste. You have miscalculated how efficient this formation will be. The ground operation is flawed. I can only cover so many shots from above,” Hanzo began again, strangely firm for downplaying himself. 

“Genji and McCree are mostly capable enough to handle what you miss when it picks up. It'll be tight but I know each of you has handled worse on your own,” Morrison countered and finally released the table from his fist. The old man paced a few steps as Genji spoke up again.

“We have the ground covered just fine...But if you expect us to act as a distraction while... our sniper carries out the final strike on the target...that is unreasonable to expect. I would rather spend the time making contact myself.” 

“All fine and good if that works out, but they're probably gonna split the second you get in too close. It'll be easier to let Hanzo chase from overhead. If they stick around, have at it, but...I'm not arguing this again! You're wasting time!” Morrison played along a moment before just barking at the three of them. 

“I can make the shot. I'll cover the roof,” McCree offered in an attempt to try and end this before it escalated again.

“No,” Genji said before Hanzo could turn it down first. “You just aren't fast enough. And...I would prefer you watching my back.” 

“I would not expect you to trust me watching it instead,” Hanzo said bitterly, looking like he nearly tasted it. 

A short silence fell over the four before Morrison ultimately broke it. It was hard to tell through his visor, but he focused on Genji. “You brought your brother in, but he won't even work with you,” he said, maybe meaning to make it a question, but his tone wouldn't carry it.

“I made no promises that he would be willing to go that far,” Genji said, voice flat. He remained rigid in his seat, his hands folded neatly on the table, elbows propping them up. He was centered and calm as usual, but there was something else there too. McCree had never noticed it before—something off he couldn't put his finger on. 

Hanzo didn't speak on the matter. If that weren't the case, he certainly wasn't denying it. McCree watched his expression, gaze passing right through Morrison and off somewhere else entirely. He felt an ache in his chest, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He was running out of ideas to patch things he didn't understand or even make this mission move forward. 

There was one thing.

McCree stood up from the table and started a few strides toward the exit. “I'll do it by m'self then,” he said. 

Hanzo and Genji both stood up, Genji quicker to reach McCree's side and grasp his shoulder to stop him. “Have you heard nothing we have been talking about? It could be too much for just one person.” 

“I done worse on my own. Ask the old man fer stories if yer gonna sit around here instead,” McCree replied, meeting where he knew Genji's gaze was. Even through the mask over his face, McCree had gotten comfortable enough talking with Genji. They usually met well, got along, never struggled much on a mission. Genji was dependable to a fault and even laughed at the worst of his worst jokes. But the Genji with his hand so firmly on his shoulder felt like a very different Genji as did the Hanzo left stranded a short distance from them. 

Genji's grasp tightened when he spoke. “I'm going with you then. If you won't turn around, I won't leave you to fight alone.” 

Hanzo remained alienated where he was, his focus only briefly returning to this plane to meet McCree's eyes. The usual fire and confidence had all but drained entirely from his face. Every alarm went off in McCree's head and yet he couldn't move an inch. More than Genji's grasp held him down. 

“I...will cover my portion from above,” he said only after straightening up a little. He readied his bow and started for the stairwell to access the roof. 

“You all settled now?” Morrison asked to confirm. 

“Yes. I will see your plan carried out,” Hanzo said coldly, turning once more for the stairs. 

McCree's lips blurted out Hanzo's name whether he liked it or not. It stalled the archer again, his look showing no improvement. 

“I'm countin' on you...same as always, partner.” 

Those words usually met some kind of smile or confident agreement. This time Hanzo met his gaze unevenly. Something felt distorted—wrong somehow and having to stand so far and meet him this way. McCree's drive to step closer halted on the dissonance reverberating between the two brothers. He marked where his place rested distinctly in Hanzo's eyes. This crossed into something he didn't dare to touch. His heart sank. 

Hanzo only nodded and picked up his pace, climbing the stairs several at a time so the familiar sound of his footfalls disappeared into the upper levels—Out of reach. 

Genji's grip loosened and he moved with a certain grace forward. His back to McCree now, he spoke with clear tension thick in his tone. “We should be going. It won't be easy.” 

Never one to be anyone's rock anymore, Morrison didn't make any move or stop them. He and McCree traded looks—at best. McCree could almost imagine the usual words he might have said, but anything probably sounded too loose or too final. Silence had to fill instead. 

That sinking feeling never left his chest—even as McCree stepped out into the sharp winter air outside the doors. 

 

* * *

 

“Genj,” McCree started, taking a few quicker strides to catch up with him. The sound of snow underfoot marked each step clearly, their crunches falling in unison as they walked side by side now. McCree grasped Genji's shoulder, but gently. “I knew you wouldn't leave me out here alone. An' I knew Hanzo wouldn't neither. Whatever's between you two fine, but I know I can count on either of you to look out fer me. I'll look out fer the both a'you myself to cover what ya'll won't.”

Genji relaxed slightly in McCree's very light hold. A few seconds passed before he shook his head and sighed. “You are a reckless fool McCree. But I am proud to have you watching my back. My brother's faults are his own to sort out...I will rely on you in his place for now.” 

His hand slipped and returned to his side, picking up his pace as Genji did so first. “I dunno if I'm gonna work as a replacement here. Don' get hasty.”

Genji's shoulders shook as he chuckled. “You're filling in for the moment. But I am...not as worried as perhaps I sounded. I know Hanzo will not leave or quit.” 

“Then why the big fuss?” McCree pressed while he had the chance. It seemed like the snow was only starting to pick up thicker, the gray of the sky deepening under what little sun they might have otherwise received—even in daylight hours. Since they arrived it seemed the wind only picked up worse. This whole mission made itself as unbearable as possible. 

“You said so yourself. He won't leave you. He'll have to push himself harder to cover for what he thinks I cannot do.” Genji paused with a slight laugh, almost bitter. “All these years and still he does not think me capable.” 

“Is that...somethin' I shouldn't ask about?” 

“You can, but I promise you no answers,” Genji answered almost playfully. At least his mood seemed somewhat improved. 

McCree glanced over the empty streets. No one would be out wandering out in this weather in this district especially. The emptiness made it a little more eerie too. It didn't seem to phase Genji as he strode confidently only a pace ahead of McCree now.

“Yer clearly capable. I jus' don' get all of what's goin' on between you two. I don' wanna pry, but yer both makin' it real hard.” 

Genji didn't reply right away. McCree assumed it was part of his not promising answers, but he did eventually speak. “You are sleeping with my brother, aren't you?” 

The sheer forwardness of the question floors McCree, his boots stopping dead in the snow. “Whoa?! Who told you that?” he blurted out. 

Charging onward, Genji kept walking and talking—forcing McCree to rush and catch up with him. “No one in particular, but you are not denying it, so I assume it's true.” 

“Well hell, not like it's a secret exactly but come on...” 

“I ask for a reason. I could tell you everything. I've put most of it behind me, but it's clear Hanzo has not. If you are so close and he's not told you...Who am I to butt in?” 

Something about Genji's tone in that last question made it hard to peg down. He didn't seem angry or so bitter about this. Maybe it hit harder than Genji intended. It left McCree's mind wandering. 

“I cannot tell you what my brother is thinking,” Genji continued when McCree only gave him silence. “But I will say he is not doing himself favors leaving you out of it. I would be angry perhaps...but you are a different man.”

“We both got baggage we don' need the other diggin' in,” McCree got out after a rough moment chewing that reply.

Genji slowed as he drew a handful of shuriken to his fingers, his stance changing with the motion. A stir up the block and around the corner grasped at his attention and took up McCree's as well. When the cyborg replied, he did so quietly this time.

“I wonder how long that will last.” 

He hardly gave McCree any opportunity to disagree, carrying quickly to say, “We should be going now. Our target is up ahead.” 

McCree held onto his hat as a harder gust blew snow across their faces and the stomp of boots in snow ahead softened. That had to be the transfer point. Firearm in one hand, the other moved from hat to steady at his side. They were going to have to be fast and precise. 

“On my mark,” Genji began, clearly tensing up to bound forward. Even through the metals that plated his frame, his body language still signaled where practiced motions would wind up muscle for release. A kind of stoicism coated this look—a face covered but a body without hesitation or any question of his confidence. It was one of the few things McCree could tell was usually shared between the Shimada brothers. He recalled the look on Hanzo's face as they parted and he ached all over again. 

A heavier shuffle down the road brought to Genji to his most tense. “Now,” he said sharply. He took the lead in an instant, sprinting down the fluff covering the stoney roads, the usual crunch of snow almost nothing under his weight. McCree rushed to run after him, by no means able to keep up, but not far behind. By the time he made it, the armored cars and Talon agents around it were already under siege by Genji's blade and stars, shouts going up into the frigid air. 

Three cars lined the narrow street, an opening in the warehouse they were parked at revealed stacks of crates, but only a couple that the agents seemed to have been trying to load. The vehicles weren't large enough to carry that much cargo. This was either something small or a tiny operation. McCree highly doubted the latter—Talon didn't have the patience for that. If Reaper really was involved somewhere in the line, even bigger reason to doubt it. 

Once McCree could make a clear shot, he unleashed a full six into the crowd of agents trying to fire back on Genji who was keeping the bulk of them terribly busy. Shots skimmed the shell of his body but never more than that. He moved with such skill and grace it seemed unlikely anything could even touch him—an unreal almost ghost-like specter took the place of the usually friendly Genji, of the Genji who had just lamented his brother's foolhardy attempts to avoid being involved with him at all. This Genji, with only the release of the blade from his back, shook a seasoned crew into wilder movement. Organization of the group fell apart in the back of the armored car row, but not up front. 

The crew for the back end of the row had been dispatched by Genji and Hanzo from overhead together, the middle car's group took to firing on the pair, but the first car was loaded and the crew firing up to tear down the street. McCree grimaced and tried to push his way into a good shot at the agent climbing in at the left side, but they got in, door slammed—the rearview eating up his bullet instead. He cursed and found himself faced with far more fire than he would have liked. He ducked and rolled behind the third car, bullets spraying the very spot he had stood in. 

“Genj, the driver!” he started to shout. 

Before the cyborg could answer, a sound he knew very well flew by from above. A cry of pain and disbelief that often marked an unforeseen shot snapped McCree's attention. He peered around to the left of the car to see Genji taking out those who had just fired on him, but no change at the driver's door. He rushed to the right and saw at the first car a dead Talon agent, an arrow lodged into his face with the front door hanging open, their body slumped over the foothold. 

Still confused for a moment, he took out a pair of agents about to fire on Genji before the way was clear and he could move up to inspect. Genji too ran up to the front car once it was clear, tore open the left side door and finished off the agent without who had been trying to reach something in the back. Now that the two of them were there it clicked.

“The driver's side is on the right, McCree,” Genji pointed out as he chuckled a little and moved to open up the back. 

“Aw hell...”

“You only _almost_ ruined this mission,” Genji said jokingly, his mood at least fairly good everything considered. “Let us see what they have here.” 

McCree moved to one of the unloaded cases to do the same, kicking it open and finding it empty. There would be fakes just in case—that seemed typical for an annoying Talon smuggling gambit. He glanced upward and caught Hanzo's figure just briefly. He didn't leave himself easily seen for long, but for that moment, his shape up so high under gusts of wind and snow looked foreign—somewhere between strange and heavenly. It stalled McCree only a second longer before helping Genji open the rest to find the real item. As they were opening up the last case everyone's communication channels opened up. 

“That spot's a diversion—sending you new coordinates, I'm headed over,” Morrison barked at them fast, terribly sharp. By his harder breath McCree could tell he was already running out that direction. There was an urgency to his voice, something personal about it. This screw up would land directly on his shoulders. 

New coordinates came in over communication—a long run for sure. Morrison had to be getting some kind of ride—or at least McCree hoped so. 

“We're jus' gonna have to beat the old man there,” McCree said, climbing into the driver's side after clearing the body. In a second the engine roared up and Genji slid into the passenger side. McCree left the door open, looking out over his shoulder. The figure he expected to call out to was out of sight where he saw him last. In a second a heavy thud hit their roof. McCree craned his neck out and met Hanzo's gaze as he peered down back at him. 

“Drive, Jesse,” he commanded shortly, looking braced for exactly that.

“I ain't gonna go slow,” McCree warned.

“I said drive,” Hanzo repeated, more pressed this time. The cold look in his eyes changed for a surer, more focused one. It eased some of the worry lingering in McCree's chest. He took his word, slamming the door and the gas at the same time. The armored car tore down the street in a few seconds, McCree handling it mostly well enough to keep them out of any accidents. Genji didn't seem too bothered by the speed—mostly bracing to jump out the second they pulled up. At least the way he had one hand gripped tightly to the door told him that much. 

“You wanna check in on the old man?” McCree suggested as he kept his boot heavy to the pedal.

“No,” Genji said, completely flat.

“I didn' mean it like an invite. I mean, do it while I'm drivin'.” 

Genji shook his head. “If he has beaten us there I am not going to distract him mid-battle with a call. If he is truly in danger I am sure he can figure out how to hide or retreat for a moment.” 

The silence of the car only made McCree's anxieties more obvious to himself. Here he was, wasting energy worrying about Morrison who probably couldn't give half a shit if he were fine or not. The thought made him grimace. 

“You have an affinity for worrying about hopeless people,” Genji said to break that quiet, although it wasn't anything McCree wanted to hear. 

“Yerself included?” he replied to avoid it. 

“I might be. You need not worry about me however.” 

“Yer the one running right into enemy fire. Lemme worry a little, Genj.” 

A piece of his mind was still outside the car, fixated on Hanzo on the roof. He hadn't fallen off or made any other sounds so surely he was fine up there, but worries gravitated that way. Either Genji sensed his distraction or didn't have a good answer for him. He kept quiet as they sped closer to their destination outside of the warehouse distinct and into somewhere populated. At this point he needed to focus on driving to avoid an accident as it was—probably for the best to shut his trap. 

Snow and ice on the road did no favors, but the pinged coordinates came up within a couple minutes, already the sound of gunfire rumbling through the narrow streets along with shouts from figures fleeing the scene. Picking the Talon agents out of the mess was easy enough—they were the only ones heavily armed besides the old man, who had managed to beat them there. Morrison was pinned behind a few already battered vehicles, this cover probably not lasting much longer for him. 

Almost too late, McCree drove right into a mess of soldiers, turning the wheel hard and hitting the brakes together to sweep through as many of them as possible. Mid-swerve Hanzo must have jumped off—the second McCree had a chance to climb out, already arrows were sniping targets he'd missed with the car. He and Genji both joined the fray fast to help give Morrison a chance to leave his cover for a safer point and finally return more fire. Between the four of them the number of agents was winding down. 

For all their squabbling earlier, when it came down to business they made it happen. He didn't miss when an arrow preyed on a target about to fire on Genji. Whatever the depth of his issue with Genji, Hanzo still did his part for the mission. It took a huge weight off McCree's chest. It made everything about combat feel a little more usual—something practiced and within his control again. He had Hanzo at his back, the old man and Genji fighting right alongside him. Whatever Overwatch was now, it was a hell of a mess, but when it was working it felt pretty decent. Those years alone felt more and more distant the tighter the group collaborated—protective shots cover for each other, rains of arrows to keep every enemy bullet in the chamber and off any one of them. The chill in the air met with the heat of fire and bodies, of hot labored breaths and brushed shoulders meeting as one covered the other's back. 

Within a couple minutes gunfire died down and Talon agents littered the icy grounds. The group started to gather around the center of the intersection McCree had slid the car through when he parted his lips to check in on the group. He only started to speak when a shot rang out from above. 

The hit came fast—immediately—like a punch in the chest out of the blue. McCree felt himself tumble backwards, vaguely recalled his head hitting the pavement hard. It got blurry after that. He heard Genji call out for his brother just after someone else yelled his own name. The foggy mists of memory at that point turned grayer and grayer until it all went black. 

 

* * *

 

McCree woke up slowly, groggily. He had no idea how long it had been, but his head must have come to weigh a thousand pounds since he passed out. Whether he liked it or not, he groaned, and despite the weight of his head sat up a little—at least enough to grope at where he'd been shot. Instead of a fresh wound or blood or anything, he found just his shirt in the same condition as before. Definitely sore, but not even a bandage or two there.

Sitting up stirred the audience in the room, namely Hanzo at his side, grasping tighter at his free hand. He stood up in a rush, the look on his face complicated—worry and shame mingled together, his tone no easier to read when he spoke. “Jesse...! Are you alright? How is your head?” he asked in a rush, almost breathless already. 

It was only after the questioning that McCree could make out where he was: in bed—in one of the more fortified bases for them probably, considering the walls. The serious medical supplies in the room signaled as much as well. All of that running through his head, along with the look Hanzo was giving him slowed him down considerably. It felt like trying to talk through a mouthful at first. 

“Yeah...yeah, it hurts like hell, but...I'm alright. I mean...am I alright? I thought I got shot...” 

“You did,” Genji butted in, stepping around the corner into McCree's line of sight. Hanzo remained close, even as his brother came to stand at his side. “You hit your head much harder. But it seems your armor stopped the worst of the shot. Although it isn't any good anymore.” Just to make a point, Genji lifted the armor in question up off the table nearby—the chest now sporting a weird deep indentation. McCree eyed the stopped bullet and unbuttoned that portion of his shirt where it would have hit. A couple buttons loose he could see it matched right up—a nasty bruise, but definitely better than a gunshot wound. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I'm kinda surprised it held up.”

“Is that not what you wear it for?” Hanzo asked looking notably concerned. At least more so than before. 

“Well yeah, but ya' never know. Bulletproof's real damn difficult to promise considering the amount'a bullets I'm around.” 

There was only room for a breath before Genji made a slightly amused sound and dropped the vest back. “You are unbelievable, but I should not have expected anything else. For now...I will leave you two alone. I am going to help the Soldier with my brother's catch.” 

At first McCree had no idea what to even say. Wasn't he Hanzo's catch? What was Morrison doing? The puzzled look on his face certainly didn't stop Genji from taking off—he only waved over his shoulder before he vanished around the corner. 

Hanzo let out a long sigh and only then let Jesse's hand go. “My apologies...I should catch you up. But...are you really sure you are fine? Do you remember everything fine?” 

Jesse mulled over that question. Not for long, but he did try to dig. “If I'm missin' anything it's probably not important. I'm here. I'm up. Yer here in one piece too. It'll be fine.” 

“You are still a fool Jesse McCree...That hardly answers my question. Take me seriously. I thought you had...not made it at first,” Hanzo said his voice straining slightly as he reached that admission. His shoulders tensed and his gaze no longer fixed on Jesse. 

He didn't rush to answer this time. Whatever happened after he blacked out must have been rough. He wasn't even sure how they got him here. There was still the shooter as well... “I'm really seriously okay...I mean it. If somethin' comes up, I'll say so,” Jesse got out a little quieter, voice lower as well. 

Not exactly satisfied, but sated for now, Hanzo carried on. “This is my fault...I should have been covering you better from above. They were on the roof and I did not spot them,” he said slowly, his gaze lowered to the floor. The strain in the corners of his eyes ached to watch, the weight of his words no better for Jesse's already heavy chest. He knew better than to say the bruise did the worst of it. 

“Darlin', it ain't yer fault. Nobody expected that kinda shot there. To make somethin' like that they had to be 'bout nearly as good as you are.” 

“Not quite nearly. I caught her,” Hanzo said, finally looking Jesse's way properly. 

“Huh? Wait, from that far away?” Jesse blurted. The sniper must have been fairly far out of sight if none of them picked up on her. That distance and skill together hit Jesse across the face—rudely and hard. “Oh hell, yer not gonna tell me it was who I'm thinkin' it was, are you?”

“I believe that I am. That...Talon woman, her designation is 'Widowmaker.' Is that the one you're thinking of? I out-shot her,” Hanzo said almost too frankly. But if this was Hanzo saying it, he couldn't exactly doubt him—not with a look over his face like this. 

Jesse reached up for his hat out of habit. When his fingers met only air he shifting to run them through his hair instead. “Did you...?” 

Sensing the question, Hanzo picked up where he trailed off. “...I thought she had killed you...” 

“...You killed 'er?” 

Hanzo straightened up at that question, the look on his face twisting to something more concerned. “No. I had considered it, but...” He stalled briefly and let his hands hang at his sides. New hues of complicity colored his eyes—beautiful but worrying in ways that clawed at Jesse's throat. He physically stopped himself from grabbing Hanzo and pulling him closer, anything to ease that look, but he knew better. He had to finish. It took him a few seconds to continue. “I had thought she would suffer more at Overwatch's hand...Or at least, I intended to see it done. The second I saw her, that consumed me. I have not been this angry in so long...I know that my brother and your old man will have nothing good to say of me. I...cannot hide this from you.” 

Jesse turned himself slightly off the medical ward bed to better face Hanzo and to take his hands up into his own. When Hanzo didn't immediately clasp back, he weaved his fingers between his partner's, holding tight. He fought to meet his gaze, finding mostly shame in it this time. 

“Look, darlin', I'm not blamin' you...” 

Hanzo returned his grasp now only far too tightly. Something desperate spread over his face and his speech hastened, voice low, shaky. “You would never blame me for a thing—You are a fool, Jesse. But this is not just you...! I lost myself the second you fell. When I tried to go after her and my brother stopped me, I fired on him and said I would kill him again. He did not stop me. I did not even look back your way...I took after that woman and traded shots the second I got close. I aimed...I _aimed_ to take her out one limb at a time if I had to. I am no better a man now than I was back then...!”

The constricting hold Hanzo kept on Jesse's hands loosened, but some of the trembling remained. One by one, he could see Hanzo's threads snapping—the system that kept him pulled tight shuddered under the weight his body fell under at that second. Too much remained bottled up—so many frayed edges to try and ask about, to put back together, too much for Jesse to take on responsibly at once. Whatever guided Hanzo this far was not a calm collective nature—it was something else held down much further, drowning under an air of control. 

Jesse felt himself in the reflection of Hanzo's eyes. It wasn't that he couldn't meet his gaze, maybe he wasn't sure he could be that kind of support. He could only second guess everything for a few seconds before he couldn't stand himself. He grasped Hanzo's hand firmly in return, leaning in closer. 

The hint of a closer memory teased tip of his mind, muddling an already complicated mix of emotions. This was enough of a weight to bear. Enough it tended to keep him on his own, managing, but always drifting alone. Less of a burden, less of _exactly this._

And yet he felt something. Something reached out in a familiar grasp no different than years ago, only now clawing at Hanzo's throat instead. Jesse knew it instinctively—they both must have recognized it in the other. Lonely work. That emotional distance. It was inevitable they would come to this. That Jesse would see same beast coiling around Hanzo. Their relationship couldn't stay this way—playfulness in place of actual substance which came to be anyway, never a word of commitment, but the two yearned for more in the quiet solitude they had built around themselves. The walls keeping their pasts and wounds hidden were bound to come down someday.

He just never expected it to be his own fault. 

His free hand reached for the back of Hanzo's neck, trying to urge him closer for their eyes to meet head on. For once, Jesse McCree wasn't going to run away. 

Fingers tightened around each other, their hold nearly unbearable. Hanzo breathed finally but fear shaded his eyes. Jesse met them and pushed on. 

“I ain't gonna tell you it's alright, but I am gonna tell you I'll be here,” he whispered, feeling feverish just saying it. “Don't try to take this on yer own. Stay, tell me, try an' trust me.” 

Hanzo gritted his teeth, struggling to say anything for a few seconds. The breath he took sounded sharp over his lips. “I do not...deserve that kindness.” The slight shake of his voice made Jesse feel like he was sinking through the bed. 

“I'm sayin' I'll give it to you because I think you do. If yer not worth savin', I'm not neither. If we're both not worth it...then I at least wanna wind up in hell with you,” Jesse said with all the conviction he could find. He felt his hand quivering in Hanzo's hold, but he was no better either. It felt like they both might snap under the pressure. 

Hanzo's eyes searched Jesse's for a few seconds before his expression shifted—some of the fear melting. It wasn't gone, but his breathing steadied at least. Hanzo's hand loosened around Jesse's and slowly he pulled their joined grasps closer to himself. “I have so many regrets. I do not want you to become one,” Hanzo answered quietly, his voice heavy. 

“Then I won't. Look. Focus on you fer a second. I'm alright. What do you want right now?” Jesse said, attempting to steer him somewhere else.

“How can I focus on anything else? I thought I had lost you and I behaved like a monster. How can I want in this state?” Hanzo's voice picked back up with intensity, his face drawing away from Jesse's. 

Jesse keeps his voice level and calm, but just stern enough. He couldn't afford to be flimsy. “We'll figure something out together. I dunno if we can fix everything, but you don't have to give up either.” 

Hanzo shakes his head. “If I'm just going to lose myself again...” 

“Hey. Right now. What's gonna help? We'll worry about a next time if it comes around.” 

Hanzo hushed this time, maybe trying to clear his thoughts. He never became too difficult to read. For once, his emotions were clear over his features, the worry in his brow, the way his eyes searched the ground for answers he might not find—all of it painted a clearer picture. The structure he'd put up around himself only seemed strong—he needed support. Jesse knew the look intimately. It made it all the harder to watch it embedded in the skin of one he couldn't let go of. 

“My brother will not forgive me. He can't. There's no way to help what I've worsened today,” Hanzo said after a long pause. 

It was something. Jesse would accept it. He didn't know all the details, but he started to piece things together. If Hanzo were really responsible for all that, maybe Genji could never forgive him. Jesse really did have a way of attaching himself to hopeless causes...

“He told you to join up basically, didn't he? That's gotta mean something. He'll at least hear you—even if he doesn't accept. You can try talkin' to him, at least about today. Start small,” Jesse suggested. 

“I could not possibly hope to repair what is between us,” Hanzo started again, his gaze turning away. 

Jesse pulled his hand back closer to himself. “Start at bein' able to work together alright. Small,” he repeated. 

“...Very well,” Hanzo relented. In return, Jesse drew his hand in his own up closer to his lips, kissing Hanzo's knuckle. The move retrieved Hanzo's attention and left him surprised. 

“I'll go with you. We can even go an' do it right now,” Jesse offered, lowering their hands so he could start to get up. Movement jolted Hanzo into his own, steadying Jesse as he pushed himself. Hanzo knew better than to try and hold him back at this point. Once Jesse was on his feet they took a moment to stand together and let Jesse find his balance. In that second their gazes met again a new feeling dug  
its way into Jesse's chest. 

“I dunno if it's gonna be weird to say, but...never thought anybody was gonna be upset if I was gone. So...thanks fer carin' that much at least,” Jesse said, not holding himself back. Maybe it was the hit on his head or something, but his tongue felt a little more loose. 

Hanzo's look turned more complicated, his hand on Jesse's shoulder gripping tighter. “I can hardly be proud of acting this way...But I can't deny how I felt either.” 

Jesse struggled to find the right words—ones he could say without placing too much on himself. No, there would be some burden no matter what he did. He might as well go with the honest way to answer. 

“I love you too, darlin'.” 

Hanzo's hands on him froze—his eyes wide as he stare at him. Words didn't seem to come to him easily—if at all. It struck Jesse that maybe he managed to say too much.

“I...Did I read that wrong?” Panic struck every nerve in his body. He thought about fleeing. Of course he blew it. He always did this to himself. His first step forward to probably never return was stopped by Hanzo shifting in front of him, both hands on his shoulders now. 

“How...am I supposed to answer this...? You've already said 'too,''” Hanzo said after a moment of staring him down. The worry in his eyes was a very different one from the moment ago. 

“Should I maybe... _hell_...I can start over?” Jesse blurted, nearing a state of meltdown. 

Hanzo nodded a few times, looking more sure of that at least. It was odd, but there was just the hint of him being flustered. They could be at the end of their ropes and usually Hanzo would keep his cool, but maybe this was just too much to handle. 

This was a terrible idea.

He'd already said it though.

Jesse felt a curse in the back of his throat, but he knew what was true.

He parted his lips but Hanzo moved one hand from Jesse's shoulder to press over Jesse's lips with two fingers. “Wait...I want to answer you properly. I said I would speak with my brother...We can try again soon.” 

Relief flickered in Jesse's head space. He knew it wouldn't last and his feelings were already in the air, but he understood. Something else had to be cleared up first. 

Now more steady, Jesse stood up on his own, nodding once after Hanzo's fingers pulled back. His hand slipped to catch Jesse's and their grasps webbed together more gently this time. It didn't take many more words for them to depart—their next destination clear enough. Meeting up with Genji wouldn't take too long—he'd been clear about where he was headed—it was only a matter of catching him once he was done meeting with Morrison. 

When Genji saw the pair of them together in the hall, his head tilted, no words immediate. His body language said he'd stay on guard, but not so much he wouldn't talk. 

Hanzo's lips didn't part very quickly. He chewed on his words for the first few seconds, unsure how to address this man before him. It would be hard to say much they were still brothers with this serious issue between them. There was probably no denying Hanzo's fault. But Genji was perhaps not the person Hanzo knew him as anymore. Maybe Jesse could keep believing in something. He had to, especially as he kept a hold on Hanzo's hand. 

A few seconds passed and Hanzo bowed his head. “I should not have treated you the way I have today. I'm sorry...brother...” 

Even with Genji's face hidden, Jesse got the feeling Hanzo didn't want to chance having to meet his eyes. Hanzo kept his head down. Jesse could almost feel the way Genji sized up the both of them together, the slight tilt of his helm enough to give him away. 

“I am not new to you losing your temper,” Genji said cautiously, still gauging Hanzo's seriousness in this..

“I know I cannot keep doing so.” 

Jesse kept quiet, glancing between the pair. A piece of him dreaded this going worse than it already was. A silence filled the hall uncomfortably. Genji made no effort to hurry in his reply—leaving Hanzo with his head down probably as long as he felt he could get away with it. 

“Keep trying then, brother. That is all I ask of you,” Genji answered firmly. His voice was steady as he usually was, but there was something almost soft about it. Was he smiling a little? Jesse didn't have much of an opportunity to work out what was going on with him. He simply turned and took his leave once that was said. 

It was only when Genji was out of sight that Hanzo straightened up. A somber look covered his face, eyes still on the floor. Something about that look seemed so distant and lonely. Jesse knew better than to jump into any urge to show him affection, to pull him closer. It must have been a thousand years since they last did so, but it wasn't the time. He let Hanzo settle his thoughts in silence—the hall terribly empty and only colder by the second. Eventually Hanzo's hand on Jesse's gripped closer, tighter. 

“Thank you for standing by me.” 

“Happy to. You want a moment?” 

Hanzo shook his head. “Stay by my side. That is my preference...I would always have you there.” 

A fluttering warmth burned in Jesse's chest. He fought for an extra breath. They were almost harmless words, but the slight smile on Hanzo's lips told him more than enough. However difficult this was, this support made a difference. He had made an impact of some kind—maybe a good one. At least, it felt that way. Some of his own loneliness felt so obvious –his mistakes too clear and too big to give him a chance at being acceptable. He'd spent so much of his life trying to make up for everything else—he could feel that strand in Hanzo too—even if unspoken. Silently, he understood where they met, what drew them together on the battlefield and now off it. 

Maybe if they struggled through it together one of the two of them would get somewhere. Even if it were slow going, they at least had each other's company. Not everything was going to fix in a short time, but Jesse already knew that. If Hanzo could come to accept that he might find himself in less pieces. Until then, Jesse knew they would continue watching each other's backs. Closely.


End file.
